


Heat

by FelidArachnid



Category: One Piece
Genre: Cooking, Domestic, F/M, Family, Sexual Tension, Team as Family, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelidArachnid/pseuds/FelidArachnid
Summary: Robin and Zoro whip something up in the kitchen. Set before timeskip
Relationships: Nico Robin/Roronoa Zoro
Comments: 7
Kudos: 114





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> i DIE for sexual tension with these two. am i ever going to write them kissing. probably not. intended this as a one shot but it sort of feels like it needs more now...

The assembled crew gazed down at Sanji’s face, protruding red and sweaty above the bedcovers like a gaunt tomato. Chopper wrung the towel out again and spread it tenderly over his forehead, although his furry little brow was furrowed in disapproval. “I told you – _told_ you, Sanji, you’d overwork yourself. I warned you about how weakened our immune systems are in cold weather and now look what’s happened.”

Nami glanced over her shoulder at the sleeting snow driving past the nearest porthole. She shivered and clasped her arms tightly. “So what’s the plan, Doctor?”

“Oh…” Chopper clapped his little hooves together in a burst of unrestrained pride at the title, undoubtedly blushing under his thick winter fur. “We-ell…if it’s the same thing Usopp had, and I suspect it is, I think it’s best if Sanji waits it out in bed for the next three days. Out of the kitchen, plenty of fluids, some antipyretics, and we’ll see where we’re at then.”

The rest of the crew nodded sagely. Their faith in Chopper’s advice reassured them that this plan sounded reasonable.

Luffy, however, had only processed one part of it. “But – how can Sanji make food when he’s not in the kitchen?” he asked blankly.

Nami sighed heavily. “Luffy…I think it’s best if we give Sanji some time off, don’t you think?”

“Oh yeah, yeah I get that!” he insisted. “But does this mean we’ll have to move the kitchen into the medical bay? Oh!” He snapped his fingers and pointed at Franky. “Franky! I order you to build a bed in the kitchen!”

“Bro…”

“Luffy!” Nami tossed her hair angrily. “Sanji is _not going to be cooking for us_! He needs rest and peace and quiet! And be quiet, you!” she added crossly, shaking off Sanji’s hand as he plucked feebly at her sleeve, undoubtedly wanting to coo over her apparent concern for him.

“What?” Luffy was appalled. “But – but what will I eat?”

“We won’t _starve_ , Luffy,” began Nami.

Zoro, leaning arms folded against the infirmary door, interrupted her. “We’ve got plenty of sake. And raw fish is good for you.”

“We’re not living off raw fish and sake,” Nami snapped back.

“Well, what then?” said Luffy persistently.

Robin sighed. “I suppose we will have to start considering the possibility of cannibalism - ”

“Robin! Not helping,” Nami exclaimed.

“But I can’t go without _food_!” wailed Luffy, as the reality of the situation slowly started to sink in. “I’ll starve! I’ll waste away!”

“To skin and bone,” observed Brook, raising an empty teacup to mime taking a sip. “Or just bone in my case, yohoho…”

“Brook! Not _helping!_ ” said Nami, stamping her foot in frustration. Luffy and Usopp gathered close around her, clamouring and complaining. Even Chopper got swept up in the moment and added his piping voice to the mix.

“Calm down!” Nami screeched, pushing them apart. “You’re giving _me_ a headache, and – _what,_ Sanji?!”

For Sanji continued to tug weakly on her coat sleeve, turning his feverish sweaty face towards her and apparently struggling to get his words out.

A ringing silence fell, Chopper clinging to Nami’s leg like a furry monkey and Luffy dangling limply from Zoro’s hands, who had lifted him bodily off the floor in his attempt to de-escalate the argument.

Sanji pushed himself into a sitting position and smiled feebly at them all, his blonde hair plastered to his forehead. Automatically he lifted his hand to his mouth before remembering Chopper had confiscated his cigarettes. He coughed. “Calm down, you idiots.”

Luffy wiggled. “You’re the idiot, idiot!” he yelled, flailing his fists. “Why’d you have to go and get sick?”

“I thank you for the concern and sympathy,” Sanji grinned, coughing into the crook of his elbow. “I’m not a _complete_ idiot, though.” Zoro grunted and Sanji flashed him a look that was a shadow of his old defiance. “There’s a….book…in the kitchen. On the bookshelf…red leather cover. Quite thin.”

They all stared at him in fascinated silence. Zoro very slowly lowered Luffy to the ground.

Chopper passed Sanji a glass of water and he drank gratefully before continuing. “I’ve been writing up some of the simpler recipes. It’s…a recipe book for you guys…in case anything happened…to me.”

There was a silently pregnant pause in which Usopp coughed awkwardly into his fist. Nami’s eyes were shining with emotion. “Oh, Sanji…”

He swooned. “Nami…I…love you…too…”

The spell was broken. Nami hissed like an angry cat and threw Chopper’s hand towel in his face before stalking out with her nose in the air. Robin laughed and followed her; one by one the crew slowly filed out towards the kitchen, leaving Chopper alone with his patient.

Chopper sponged Sanji’s face dry and tucked him in a little tighter. “You’ll be okay Sanji.”

But the cook was already fast asleep.

-

Chopper found everyone gathered around the dining table, Robin seated in the centre holding the thin leather-bound volume Sanji had described. She smiled at him as he scrambled onto the bench and Usopp shuffled aside to make room for the tiny doctor.

Robin ran a slim finger down the page of neat, flowing script. “He’s even illustrated it.”

“Hm,” sniffed Usopp, folding his arms and tilting his head critically. “He could have asked for my help.” But he grudgingly admitted that Sanji’s drawings weren’t bad, and the recipes were so simple that almost anyone could follow them.

Almost. Nami poked Luffy in the temple and turned to the rest of the crew. “All in favour of banning this one from kitchen duties, say ‘aye’.”

“Aye,” everyone chorused, and Luffy scowled. “You’re all booger-brains.”

“All right,” said Nami, more cheerful now. “Well, it should be easy enough to fit cooking around our normal chore schedule. It’ll just mean we don’t get days off.”

Usopp groaned, but hastily sat up straight at the expression on Nami’s face. “I get it! It’s just a pain….”

Nami’s expression softened. “I know. But we’ve all got to step up for Sanji’s sake. Now…” She walked over to the paper chart pasted onto the dining room wall, running her finger over the calendar that Usopp had adorned with little stickers of each crew member’s face. “Looks like…Me and Zoro are sharing night watch today…Robin is on bathroom cleaning…hm…Usopp, you and Franky are off this evening, so you pair up for tonight’s meal.”

“Yeah, bro!” Franky plucked the recipe book from Robin’s hand and began excitedly leafing through it. “We’ll make something super manly together!”

“Something with lots of meat!” said Luffy bossily, leaping to his feet and pulling his coat back on in preparation to go back out and play in the snow. “I order it.”  
  


“Yes, Captain,” said Usopp wearily, with a mock salute.

“Robin, Zoro, you guys are cooking tomorrow,” called Nami, still engrossed in her wall chart and making minute edits with an ink pen. “Brook, you can help me after that, otherwise I’d be stuck with Luffy…” She abruptly trailed off in her instructions, turning back to the now mostly empty room. The boys had all made a swift exit on the heels of their captain, and she could hear their yells of excitement outside as they thundered through the snow on deck.

Robin chucked and reached over to affectionately tuck a strand of hair behind Nami’s ear. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep them in line.”

-

The following day still dawned crisp and cold, although the sky remained clear of any further snowfall – much to the consternation of Luffy and Usopp, who spent the day alternately moping about on deck and casting their rods fruitlessly into the chill of the iron-grey sea. By early evening they were thoroughly bored and found themselves a perch on the water barrels from which they could flick apple pips at Zoro. Luffy’s aim was terrible and Usopp’s very good, so between them they had accrued a neat little carpet of seeds around the swordsman, who remained fast asleep and unaware of the pip stuck firmly between his eyes.

“Shh!” hissed Usopp gleefully, flapping a hand at Luffy as he lined up his last shot.

Sniggering, Luffy elbowed his companion. “No, Usopp, look there!”

Usopp lowered his carefully positioned apple seed from his line of sight and saw at once what Luffy was so amused by. A slender, instantly recognisable hand had appeared from the mast Zoro was leaning against and was tapping gently but insistently on his shoulder. When this failed to rouse him, the hand resorted to shaking him, slightly less gently. Finally it reached up and pinched him firmly on the nose.

“Yeow!” Luffy and Usopp fell about laughing as Zoro jerked awake and slapped at his own face in angry bewilderment.

“Great prank, Robin!” hooted Luffy, clapping his sandals together and casting about for the archaeologist.

“I think,” hiccupped Usopp, wiping a tear from his eye. “ – you’re expected elsewhere, Zoro.”

“Expecte – oh!” Zoro’s scowl dissolved into an uncharacteristic look of mild panic and he slapped his forehead, only to stare in further confusion at the apple seed now sitting in his palm. Robin’s conjured hand tapped him politely on the shoulder once more and crooked its finger in a beckoning gesture.

“I know, I know,” he muttered, apparently unsure whether to address the hand directly or not, and stumped grumpily off in the direction of the kitchen. 

Luffy stuck his finger up his nose and began rooting around earnestly. “C’mon Usopp, let’s go bother Franky.”

Zoro could feel the heat from the kitchen before even opening the door, and the warmth hit him like a punch after the chill of the wintry air. He felt his smarting face immediately colour up and as he closed the door, he shrugged his heavy coat off, leaving it in a heap on the floor.

Robin was standing over the stove, looking very pretty with her hair up in a ponytail. Two pairs of devil fruit hands were holding the recipe book open and an enormous pot sat ready over the heat.

“Er,” Zoro began, shuffling over. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

“That’s all right,” she said indifferently, not looking up from the page. “I’ve already started.”

“What’s that?” He drew closer to see what she was reading, their shoulders bumping together in the awkward narrow space.

“A stew seems simple enough, and a welcome meal in this weather,” she replied, and held up a kitchen knife, smiling. “And I thought you’d enjoy all the chopping it requires.”

He tried not to smile back as he took the proffered knife, and instead examined it critically, balancing it on one finger and squinting down its length. “Hm. Not bad. I guess that shitty cook must _sometimes_ know what he’s doing.”

“Yes,” said Robin drily, and wiggled a carrot at him. “I’m sure these vegetables won’t stand a chance against such a noble blade.” She laughed again as Zoro flushed and snatched the carrot from her.

Obligingly she moved up to make room for him at the counter and Zoro paused over the chopping board, knife in one hand and the other resting on the carrot. “I, er - ”

Robin glanced over, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

He shrugged and made a vague gesture with the knife, indicating the cluttered countertop, the hot stove and the open recipe book. “Er – I’ve never…done all _this_ \- cooking, I mean – before.” He turned back to the carrot, a small scowl creasing his brow. “Not properly, anyway.”

“That’s quite all right,” she smiled back. “That makes two of us. We can take our time to - ” She broke off as Zoro looked up from the already perfectly diced carrot, the knife glinting in his hand. Briefly he glanced from her surprised expression to the cutting board and allowed a rare grin to steal onto his face. “What, you thought a swordsman wouldn’t know how to chop a _vegetable_?”

Robin recovered herself quickly. “No,” she said coolly, but the corners of her own mouth were still lifted as she turned back to the recipe. “But do try to keep up.” He blinked. She herself had four pairs of arms on the go, one oiling and seasoning the pot liberally, two were shelling peas into a ceramic bowl, and her own, real ones, were holding out two more carrots to him.

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty to cut.”

A companionable silence fell as Zoro obediently reduced several onions, a stick of celery and two large potatoes to a neat pile of cubes. He was vaguely aware of Robin watching his hands out of the corner of her eye and the thought made him feel oddly self-conscious. He coughed. “So, er…I didn’t know you’d never cooked before either – I mean, you seem to know what you’re doing, so…”

Robin shrugged and stirred the chopped vegetables into the now sizzling oil. “I didn’t exactly have the opportunity growing up. I’ve read the books, obviously but…practical knowledge is different.” She met his eyes as a pleasant savoury smell began emanating from the pot. “Or did you think, because I’m a _woman_ …”

Zoro blushed deeply and turned hurriedly away, making a pretence of checking two pieces of potato were of equal size. “Fuck! No, nothing like that - ”

She leaned across him to scoop the potato into a bowl, and he felt her arm brush against his. “Don’t worry, I know.” And the teasing glint was back in her eyes. 

Together they prepared and sautéed the vegetables according to Sanji’s instructions, taking it in turns to stir the contents of the saucepan and bending their heads together over the neat little recipe book. The loose strands of her dark hair tickled Zoro’s neck every time this happened, and he was briefly seized by an urge to tuck them behind her ear.

“Meat,” he said gruffly, to dissuade himself from this thought. “Do we have any left onboard?”

“I think Luffy would consider it unforgiveable if we didn’t,” said Robin drily, producing a paper wrapped and grease-stained parcel. The diced beef was soon added to the pot and Zoro couldn’t help but sniff appreciatively at the warm scent.

“We haven’t even added the aromatics yet,” said Robin keenly, running a finger down Sanji’s curly penmanship. “Parsley…rosemary…bay…”

Zoro thought about asking what ‘aromatics’ meant, but he didn’t want to seem obtuse against Robin’s calm confidence and instead stood blankly in front of Sanji’s wall-mounted spice rack. They were apparently ordered by some system known only to the chef and although each little jar was labelled with that same ornate handwriting, Zoro had no idea where to start. He didn’t even know what he was looking for.

He needn’t have worried. A bloom of pale forearms sprouted around the shelves and with elegant, efficient precision plucked three glass jars from their seat and passed them down in a conga line to Zoro, who took them in bemusement, squinting at the dried contents.

He handed the first one to Robin. “Parsley,” he added as an afterthought, catching sight of the little paper label.

Robin was apparently getting into the swing of things now, and Zoro watched in some admiration as she – well, not exactly _single-handedly_ , but certainly without his help – powdered the herbs and tipped them in, stirred the pot, added the peas and began pouring jugs of warmed water over it all. She met his eyes as she continued stirring and her smile was almost pleased.

“Powdered beef stock,” Zoro said quickly, turning away to peruse the recipe, brow furrowed.

“You’re falling behind, swordsman,” she said mischievously, waving a glass jar of brown powder at him.

“Give me that,” he retorted, swiping it from her grasp and applying what he quickly found was an unnecessary amount of force to open it. The lid flew off unexpectedly and stock powder flew everywhere – but mostly all over Zoro. He swore and took a step back, kicking brown dust off his shoes.

Robin was clearly trying to contain her laughter. She put the wooden spoon down and gently but firmly took the jar from Zoro’s hands, while a second pair of her own sprouted from his broad shoulders and began dusting his chest down, removing the worst of the mess.

He flapped irritably at them and they obligingly disappeared in a bloom of petals. Robin was still smiling, although she had the grace to look apologetic. “My fault. I must have loosened the lid for you.”

“Very funny,” he said crossly, brushing the last of the stock from his shirt. “Or maybe I just don’t know my own strength.”

For the first time, he thought he saw a slight blush creep into Robin’s cheeks, although he didn’t dare look at her directly to confirm. Possibly she was just warm from the heat of the stove, anyway.

He flinched as her arms appeared before him once more and dropped something over his head. “Oi…” He blinked as he looked down at the apron being tied around his waist by the pale apparitions.

Robin was back to stirring the pot, studiously avoiding looking at him as her conjured arms adjusted the apron as best they could across his broad chest. “Seemed prudent.”

Somehow Zoro felt she was teasing him again and he tugged slightly at the apron bindings cinched above his hips. “I’ll be laughing when you’re the one needing it in a minute.”

“Well, I’ll take extra care not to get myself messy then,” she threw back, still not looking at him as she scooped the leftovers of the beef stock into the stew.

There was no denying it, her cheeks were definitely pink now. With difficulty Zoro pushed the thought away and fixed his gaze firmly on the cookbook, scanning down the page without really taking any of the words in. Near the bottom Sanji had inked a tiny drawing of a pot with tiny bursts of steam issuing from its sealed lid.

He hadn’t noticed Robin coming up close behind him and her voice in her ear made him jump. “It’s sweet, isn’t it?”

He leaned away from her; the apron felt uncomfortably tight. “What is?”

“The drawings.” She indicated the little dancing row of carrots Sanji had spread across the top of the page. “He’s clearly got creative spirit.”

“I guess you could call it that,” he said tersely, to deflect from the strange, alien emotion twisting his gut at her words. He couldn’t quite put a name to it but he knew he’d rather steer the conversation away from hearing Robin compliment Sanji.

Not that she seemed to have noticed anything. Next to the drawing Sanji had written that they should leave the stew to cook for at least half an hour, which was a relief to Zoro. He needed an excuse to get out of this tiny, sweltering room and away from Robin and her soft gaze and wandering hands.

As if she’d read his mind, her palm ghosted over the small of his back as she squeezed past him on her way to the stove. A tingling sensation radiated briefly up his spine and he flexed his fingers instinctively in the way he always did when he was stressed. Not that he could think of any reason he had to be stressed, he thought confusedly, watching Robin lift the pot lid and take a deep inhale. He was safe onboard his ship, in close quarters with a trusted crewmate. What on earth did he have to worry about?

Exactly as he wondered this, Robin advanced on him with a steaming spoon held aloft. “Want to taste-test?”

He’d been so caught up in his own thoughts that he barely registered her question and it was completely without thinking that he bent forward to put his lips to the spoon. Robin’s hand trembled slightly and he instinctively put his hand to her wrist to steady it.

Instantly his mind went blank. Her eyes, limpid and heavy-lashed, bored into his own. His fingers tightened slightly around her wrist. The stew was hot and salty against his tongue. Robin’s chest rose and fell rapidly and Zoro suddenly realised he was holding his own breath.

Robin took a cautious half step towards him, and his other hand was just reaching out to touch her shoulder –

The door to the deck banged open with a crash, sending a rush of cold air and a blast of ice into the steamy room. Robin jumped and gasped, sending the spoon clattering to the floor, and Zoro’s hands leapt to her sides to steady her. They found themselves staring into Usopp’s blistered, snow-blasted face.

He stared back at them, eyes darting to Zoro’s hands on Robin and a look of panic dawned on his flustered countenance. “Oh – I…was just…”

Zoro dropped his hands as though he’d been burned and turned very deliberately away from Robin, who abruptly folded her own arms and hoisted a bland, indifferent smile onto her treacherously pink face.

“…wondering…dinner…” mumbled Usopp, pulling his scarf over his chin and looking anywhere but at the pair of them.

“It will be ready in half an hour,” said Robin smoothly, turning her back on Zoro and opening multiple cupboards at once with several pairs of hands. “Usopp, would you help me lay the table?”

Usopp looked very much as though he would rather be back outside in the cold and away from Zoro’s dangerously lowering brow, but he obediently shuffled forward and accepted an armful of plates from Robin.

When Robin next turned back to the kitchen to retrieve cutlery, Zoro had stormed out, leaving the pot bubbling on the stove.

Dinner that night was a noisy, cheerful affair with big foaming mugs of beer to accompany the thick rich stew and hearty loaves of seeded bread provided from Sanji’s pantry. Luffy was particularly delighted with the savoury meaty meal and Robin’s arms kept up a steady chain of refilling his bowl.

Sitting next to her at the table, Zoro caught a subtle, flowery scent every time she did this and wondered how he’d never noticed this aspect of her power before. He’d already scraped his own bowl clean and although he was too preoccupied to ask for more food, Robin had refilled his beer glass without a word.

He stared straight ahead as he sank his face into the amber liquid, eyes fixed on Brook spilling stew down his front without really seeing the skeleton.

Outwardly, he looked deep in thought but in reality his mind was utterly blank, because every time Robin shifted in her seat at the crowded table, her thigh pressed up against his and he could _not_ stop focusing on it. Something about it shorted all the circuits in his brain and all he could do was scowl and hope no one noticed.

Which was ridiculous, of course. Nami _always_ noticed; she was too nosy for her own good. Zoro was jolted from his reverie as she slid into the seat on his other side, elbowing a protesting Usopp out the way. Warily, Zoro looked down at her as she propped her chin on her hand, a glittering smile on her face.

“What?”

“So, has Robin domesticated you then?”

He spluttered, sending beer all down his front. “What?”

Nami looked amused. “I just didn’t know you could cook. That was a really good dinner.” She leaned to the side to grin at Robin around Zoro’s hunched, coughing back.

Robin gave a wry smile, handing Zoro a towel without looking at him. “Don’t tease, Nami.”

“I’m not!” she insisted, cheerfully thumping Zoro on the back as he continued to cough. “I’m impressed, you trained him well.”

“I wouldn’t dare to presume I could tame the demon of the East Blue,” said Robin drily, but there was a twinkle in her eye. Zoro knew, because he was looking directly at her for the first time since he’d run from the kitchen.

There was something magnetic about that teasing note in her voice. He suddenly badly wanted to feel her wrist in his grip again and he didn’t know why.

They stared at one another just long enough for Nami to awkwardly cough into her fist, and then the moment was broken by Luffy and Franky breaking into raucous song over their freshly-filled tankards.

Zoro sat in silence for the rest of the meal, clenching and unclenching his fists and ignoring the last of his beer.


End file.
